Amateur
by Aeratril
Summary: (Legolas/Thranduil slash) Legolas is a grown, and is tired of the condescending way his father treats him. When he confronts Thranduil to insist he is an adult, the Elvenking decides to put that claim to the test.


Legolas flipped through the pages of the psychology book his tutor had placed before him, completely bored. Something about Electra and Oedipus complexes or whatever it was had been scrawled on the chalkboard before him, but it was far from his mind. While he was aware of the growing importance of the newer sciences, he had far surpassed schooling age, and would rather be off hunting or fighting something. Really, anything else would be better. But his father was intent on making sure his education as a prince was top-notch, boring or no.

He was a less than stellar student when it came to raw academia. His brain had been filled with all manner of foreign languages as a young child, so his Westren, Sindarin, Quenya, Khudzul, Noldorin and Valarin were all nearly flawless (some more than others), but combat was where he truly excelled. He spent long hours preening his techniques and solidifying his stance, and would just as easily devote all of his time to it were he not subjected to such completely dry studies.

His eyes skimmed the tome, and he feigned that he was deeply absorbed in the text until he saw his tutor leave. No sooner was he out of sight than did Legolas open the window and jump out into the grass, quickly stealing away into the royal guard's training grounds. He hated that this child's play was still necessary for him to get an adequate amount of practice in; he was fully considered an adult. He made a silent oath to never subject his children or successors to this type of torment as he stood up and took his weapons from their hiding place.

He adored archery. Everything about it appealed to him, down to the tactics of combat (at which he was also skilled). Arrow after arrow he shot into the eye of each target. He quickly became absorbed in his practice, and all twelve of the targets were shot full of his arrows. When his quiver was empty, he set to retrieve them, walking toward the burlap bullseye closest to him.

He jolted and stopped in his path when a firm hand grasped his shoulder from behind. His mind raced; it couldn't be Tauriel. No, her hands were too soft. His tutor wouldn't bother making the effort to chase him down, and the only other person who would dare approach him here was... shit. He turned around slowly, his reaction slowed by his sudden lack of enthusiasm to see his father's face looming just above his.

"Go retrieve them," Thranduil said simply, folding his hands in front of him. "I can wait."

Legolas jerked the arrows from the targets, one after the other, shoving them disharmoniously back into the quiver. The Elvenking held his hand out as if Legolas were a child who had stolen something, and the younger elf handed his bow and arrows over, as he had countless times in the past.

Thranduil sighed, setting them aside. "Legolas, you can't-"

"-shirk my studies. I know, father." Legolas stared into his eyes, letting out a short sigh. He gave him an imploring look once he knew he had his full attention. "Are you aware at all that I've grown? You seem to be the only elf in all of Mirkwood who still insists on treating me as a child."

"Trusting you to complete advanced studies is childish treatment?" Thranduil clearly looked less than impressed, and quite inquisitive.

"Yes! You shove me from duty to duty as if I'm incapable of handling myself on my own."

Thranduil paused, seeming to take this in. "Follow me."

Legolas obeyed and followed wordlessly as Thranduil turned on his heel and walked inside the castle. It was some time before he seemed satisfied with their location; when they reached an empty, unlit guest room in a barely-used wing of the palace, Thranduil shut the door behind them both. The last evening sunbeams cascaded through the curtains, making the room feel that much more abandoned. Legolas did not notice his father's deft hands flick the lock into place.

"Tell me, Legolas Thranduillion. What makes you feel so mistreated as an adult?" He stopped in front of a dusty canopy, ignored by guests for long enough to be ignored by the chambermaids. "Is it the fact that you're still obligated to study? Your duties as a prince of Mirkwood?"

Legolas could only stand before him and take the scolding.

"Perhaps it is a lack of attention from your elders? You do seem to stick to a much younger crowd than I would deem appropria-"

"As if the older elves could teach me anything you haven't already pounded into my head," Legolas retorted under his breath.

Thranduil fell silent, walking forward and grabbing Legolas by the chin. "Care to repeat that?"

He made direct eye contact with his father this time, and spoke clearly. "I am no longer a schoolboy, and I have nothing left to learn from you." His eyes narrowed in defiance.

Thranduil tilted his head to one side, almost smiling. His voice was much quieter. "Is that so...?"

With one forceful, sweeping movement he gripped Legolas by the jaw, pushing his chest and spinning him around, all but throwing him on his back to topple through the sheer canopy. His body tore a large hole through the delicate fabric before he landed, stunned, on the unused bed. Thranduil shrugged the silk swath from his shoulders, landing atop Legolas and pinning him by the shoulders onto the bed.

The younger elf, bewildered, could only sink into the comforter and try to shrink away from whatever Thranduil was going to say next. He looked up, surprised, when he heard him laughing.

"When I was your age, Legolas, I knew everything, too." His voice sounded thoroughly entertained. "Consider this a test. I'll have the privilege of commencing this rite of passage, and your reactions will tell all." A hand came over to caress the side of Legolas's face.

He was confused, but the hand trailing down his cheek was comforting, and oddly intoxicating. He closed his eyes and leaned into it, breathing a sigh of relief that he was not going to be punished.

Thranduil closed the distance between himself and Legolas, placing his lips upon his son's. Legolas stiffened, completely unsure how to react.

As if there were no tension, Thranduil continued. His hips moved forward to straddle Legolas, and his hands began to explore as he bit gently at the younger elf's bottom lip.

Legolas could feel a deep blush settle in his cheeks, but for some strange reason, all of this felt completely natural. He relaxed beneath Thranduil when he licked where his teeth had scraped. Legolas parted his lips, lacing his hands around his father's neck to bring him closer. He leaned up into the kiss as it became deeper, savoring the friction between their moving lips.

Thranduil's hands danced down Legolas's tunic, unclasping the buttons one by one, until his chest was exposed for his hands to explore. Almost immediately he brought his son to an upright position with one hand on his waist and another at his back. He ground his hips hard into Legolas's lap, earning a tentative moan from him.

Legolas broke the kiss, looking into his eyes. "Father, this is not norma-"

Thranduil cut him off with a finger to his lips. "If you want me to stop, you need only say so."

He noted no dissent when he kissed his neck. Pleased sighs as Thranduil's mouth explored Legolas's chest only translated to "please continue", and he could only obey. When his mouth had reached below his son's heaving chest and further south than his firm abdomen, he paused with a hand at his tightening waistband.

Legolas looked down, nearly out of breath. "What made you stop?"

Thranduil smiled and chuckled. "Just making sure."

He tugged the pants down to reveal Legolas's manhood, now completely stiff and nearly throbbing upon his blonde curls. He grasped it and began gently stroking it, taking the top half into his mouth.

Legolas's wrist flew up as if to catch the loud moan that escaped his lips and earned an encouraging wave of pressure. He bit his wrist and grasped the blanket beneath him as his father's intoxicating ministrations brought him closer to his edge. For a few blissful moments Thranduil took Legolas into his mouth completely, stopping just before Legolas was about to come.

The cold air on his exposed organ made Legolas arch his back and squirm impatiently, and he was unable to find words to get Thranduil to do something. Anything.

Thranduil smiled and placed the palm of his hand on Legolas's abdomen, forcing him back down into the comforters. "Keep your eyes closed."

Legolas stared at him imploringly, and Thranduil sighed.

"Just do it."

He obeyed, and the Elvenking made quick work of removing his own clothing, careful to set his crown somewhere safe.

He gripped his erection in both hands tight against Legolas's, stroking them both in a rhythm that threatened to bring Thranduil to a climax. He let go of himself and took a moment to get ready for what was to come next.

Legolas opened his eyes when he felt a pause. He couldn't help but admire Thranduil's physique and the beautiful way it had matured over the years. Thranduil gave him a look when he caught his eye, and Legolas shut his own once more. Another agonizing moment passed.

Legolas's hips shot forward as soon as he felt a tight warmth close around him. Thranduil gasped in pain. "Gently!"

When Legolas realized what was happening, he relaxed and let Thranduil build his own steady rhythm.

Thranduil moved atop Legolas, acclimating himself to this particular sensation of being filled. It had been some time, but it was not long before he found the spot that made him jolt upright in pleasure. He groaned, aiming for it and hitting it with increasing speed and pressure.

Legolas grasped the sheets around him, feeling a pressure build in the small of his back, and move steadily forward. The intensity of Thranduil's movements felt better with each passing second. Heat rushed into his hips and a knot of pressure burst into pure ecstacy. Legolas moaned loudly and came, hard. Thranduil pumped himself harder, relaxing into his own orgasm.

The two gasped for air, motionless for a long moment. Legolas laid still as Thranduil cleaned him off with a spare towel, falling into the lulling grip of sleep. Night had fallen by the time Thranduil was dressed again and headed to his own chambers, exhausted.

_Adult indeed,_ Thranduil thought to himself. The entire scene went through his mind, and he couldn't suppress a laugh at how Legolas had not acted, but simply lain beneath him and reacted. A smile settled on his lips.

_Amateur._


End file.
